


Under the Full Cold Moon

by justdk



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fluff, Full Moon, M/M, Storytelling, pynch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 22:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12921264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justdk/pseuds/justdk
Summary: “Tell me a story,” he says to Adam. He misses the stories his father told, he misses Gansey’s constant stream of anecdotes, even if they were mostly about Glendower. He reads books to Opal now, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, The Hobbit, but it’s not the same.“A story?” Adam continues to gaze at the stars, his brow creases in thought. “I don’t know… a true story? A fairy tale? A myth?”Ronan tugs at Adam’s scarf. “You’re thinking about this too much. Any story will do.” He nudges Adam’s cheek with his cold nose, kisses his jaw, feeling Adam’s face tug into a smile.





	Under the Full Cold Moon

**Author's Note:**

> GUYS!!! Since I wrote and posted this the ever fabulous @cosmiccluck did some *amazing* [art](http://cosmiccluck.tumblr.com/post/168355699412/a-thing-for-this-charming-bit-of-writing-by) for this little story and you should check it out!! Seriously it's the best <3

Adam shivers next to him but he hasn’t complained about the cold yet. He lets Ronan lead him through the damp fields, holding tightly to his hand. The moon is full and hanging low in the sky, its orbit bringing it close to the earth. Adam told him it was called a super moon. He was full of information, calling it the Full Cold Moon. Ronan likes that name. He likes this—the bone deep chill, their breaths puffing out in clouds, the damp grass that will frost during the night and sparkle like diamonds at dawn.

Classes were winding down for Adam and soon he and the rest of Aglionby would be out for winter break. Without the quest for Glendower and its attending drama Adam had time to do stuff like this, visiting Ronan at the Barns and walking through the midnight fields. Ronan had gone to mass that morning and picked up Adam after, taking him back to the Barns for a lazy day of reading, taking naps in front of the fireplace, exploring with Opal and Chainsaw, and eating an early dinner while watching an old black and white movie that Adam had never seen, “The Thin Man.” Having Adam at the Barns meant spoiling him, because here and only here was Adam able to surrender his pride and let someone take care of him. It made Ronan feel good, doing small, thoughtful things for Adam. The dreamt lotion had been a small opening gesture, a move on the chessboard of their complicated relationship. But now Ronan is heaping on as many kindnesses as he could.

For example, right now Adam is bundled up in one of Ronan’s sweaters, wrapped in a scarf Aurora had knitted, wearing one of Niall’s dreamt hats that kept your head and ears perfectly warm, and his perfect, lovely – not chapped – hands are encased in mittens that Ronan had dreamed for him, cute mittens with mice on them. Adam had put up with Ronan dressing him with good grace, even tipping up on his toes to kiss Ronan’s forehead as he pulled a hat over Ronan’s head.

They reach the tall barn, the one Ronan had climbed after kissing Adam for the first time, and Ronan shows Adam how to scale it. The roof is a little precarious, slick from moisture and slightly icy. Ronan holds Adam’s hand as they settle down. He’s brought a heavy wool blanket and they wrap it around themselves before sitting. Adam presses close beneath Ronan’s arm, his teeth chattering. Ronan rubs Adam’s arm, trying to share as much warmth as he can.

Adam sticks his nose into the crook of Ronan’s neck; cold skin meeting warm skin and Ronan jolts at the contact.

“Jesus, Parrish,” he complains. Adam laughs, his hot breath traveling up Ronan’s exposed throat.

“But my nose is cold,” Adam says plaintively. “And my toes are cold.”

“You’ve been watching “One Hundred and One Dalmatians” with Opal too often.”

Adam shrugs and wraps both arms around Ronan’s waist. The blanket’s doing its work and keeping their body heat contained. That must be why Ronan suddenly feels so hot.

“Wow,” Adam’s voice is hushed. He tips his head back on Ronan’s shoulder and stares up at the sky. “Look at how clear it is.”

Ronan studies Adam’s face, admiring the way the moonlight casts him in silver and shadows. He hopes that he’ll dream about this later, the two of them cuddled together beneath the stars. Maybe he’ll dream a constellation for Adam.

“Yeah,” Ronan answers, his voice rough. He turns his eyes to the heavens and the moon, huge and full, looms overhead. It’s really not a stretch to believe in gods or God, looking at it and the host of stars. The far away sound of a train whistle drifts through the night, aching and haunting. Whenever he hears it Ronan thinks of traveling, imagines distant destinations, the great unknowns of the world. He thinks of his father, always gone and now gone forever.

“Tell me a story,” he says to Adam. He misses the stories his father told, he misses Gansey’s constant stream of anecdotes, even if they were mostly about Glendower. He reads books to Opal now, _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,_ _The Hobbit_ , but it’s not the same.

“A story?” Adam continues to gaze at the stars, his brow creases in thought. “I don’t know… a true story? A fairy tale? A myth?”

Ronan tugs at Adam’s scarf. “You’re thinking about this too much. Any story will do.” He nudges Adam’s cheek with his cold nose, kisses his jaw, feeling Adam’s face tug into a smile.

“I could tell you about the stars,” Adam sighs, “but you know those stories. The old myths, from your religion and from the Greeks, and I don’t know other mythologies well enough to retell them here.” His voice trails into silence but it’s not uncomfortable, it’s a thoughtful silence. Ronan’s used to it, on the nights when he stays at St. Agnes and reads while Adam does homework or studies.

“There once was a man,” Adam begins, “who lived on the moon and watched the dreams of all the creatures on Earth. His life was always shrouded in night, cold and lonely. He longed to dream as the humans did, but he could not. He longed to interact with the dreams, but he could not. Without the passage of days he had no way to track the passage of time, he could only exist and watch and pine.

“One night, his longing was so intense that he began to sing, in a language that was unique to the stars. He sang of his sadness and want, and his song was so moving that the stars took pity on him. They offered to let him ride on their streams of light when they fell to earth but come morning he would have to return to the moon.

“The man agreed, though the stars warned him that his grief would only be increased after his brief time on earth. The man ignored the warning and that night he made his expedition to earth. He gloried in the rush of traveling with the star, little heeding the violent end that would meet his celestial companion. His joy turned to terror as they crashed towards the surface and the impact sent him flying, knocking him out cold.

“The man woke to a golden light that burned his eyes and a warmth that he had never experienced, in a bed soft with furs. A young man sat at the edge of the bed. His skin was dark and his long black hair hung like a curtain around his handsome face—”

“Oh my god this is so _gay_ ,” Ronan groans, teasing Adam.

“Shhh!” Adam commands. “As a matter of fact the man on the moon was attracted to all genders. In this story he meets a nice man who happens to really like cold, pale moon men.” Ronan snorts. “May I continue?”

“Is this going to be a sad story?”

“I don’t know,” Adam admits. “I’m winging it.”

“Okay, carry on.” Ronan slumps down, leaning into Adam.

“Right. So the man wakes up and finds this gorgeous guy watching him. They were able to communicate because the man on the moon had learned human languages by watching their dreams. He found out that the other man was named Larksong because he was well known for his beautiful singing.”

“ _So gay_.” Adam thumps Ronan on the back of the head.

“The man on the moon had never been given a name but when he explained where he came from to Larksong the young man gave him a name: Starfell.”

“He did not!” Ronan interrupts. 

“Ronan! I’m telling the story! Shut up!”

“Fine, fine.”

“Now, according to the tradition of all great love stories, Starfell immediately fell for Larksong and Larksong fell for him.”

“Of fucking course.”

“But when morning came Starfell was called back to the moon, disappearing from Larksong’s arms like mist burned off by the sun’s heat. The following night Larksong walked to the lake, where he had the best view of the night sky, and he stared up at the moon, waiting for Starfell to return to him. However, catching a falling star is not easily done, and it is impossible to predict where one will impact. Starfell watched with despair as Larksong aged while he remained unchanged, trapped on the moon.”

“That sucks,” Ronan comments.

“Yes. It was cold comfort for Starfell to view Larksong’s dreams, to see how much the other man missed him and longed for him. So Starfell sang again to the stars and the moon, begging to be reunited with Larksong. The moon took pity on him. That winter was bitter and cold, and Larksong had wasted away into a shell of man. He crept to the lake one last time and sat on the icy shore and gazed up at the Full Cold Moon, wishing with all his heart that he could see Starfell one more time before he died.”

“What the fuck?”

“The moon heard his prayer, and Starfell’s song, and moved close to the earth, closer than it had ever been before. The brightness of the moon’s light, reflected back from the clear lake, created a road of moonbeams leading through the stars to the moon’s surface.

“Starfell had been watching Larksong so he noticed the moment the road came into being. He raced down the moonbeams, sliding and falling in his haste. Larksong, dazed and weak, began to slowly climb towards the moon. With each step a bit of his youth and strength was restored. Soon he was able to run and then… he saw Starfell racing towards him. His heart surged in his chest and he sprinted up the moon’s road, all of his weariness gone.

“Larksong and Starfell met in a field of stars, on a bridge of light. It’s said that the intensity of their kiss created a new constellation, The Lovers. But time was slipping away and they could not delay. Hand in hand they ran to the moon, vying with one another in their race against the sun. Their feet had only just touched the moon’s surface when the moon bridge disappeared. Larksong, newly young and strong, looked with wonder at his new home, the vast plains of white moon dust scored by deep craters. Starfell took his hand and guided him along the familiar path to his dwelling. The moon was stark and cold, so different from earth, but Larksong found it to also be enchanting and lovely. From that night forward he and Starfell lived together, sharing dreams, singing songs, and loving one another. The end.”

Adam blows out a long breath and Ronan watches as the white cloud briefly hovers over the moon. If he uses his imagination he can picture two men living on the moon, keeping watch over all the mortals on earth.

“Adam,” Ronan says. Adam cocks his head to look at him. In the uncertain light Ronan can’t interpret Adam’s expression. His eyes seem very bright, though. Ronan tilts his head just so and kisses him, eyes closed, cold lips pressed to cold lips until they’re warm again. He kisses Adam and Adam kisses him back until they’re in danger of sliding right off the damn roof.

Down in the hayloft Ronan pulls Adam on top of him and kisses him again, slides off his gloves and works his warm hands under Adam’s sweater to touch his back.

Adam shivers and kisses Ronan’s jaw. “I take it you liked the story?”

“It was fucking great,” Ronan replies.

“Yeah?” Adam’s voice is low and husky, pitched in way that makes Ronan crazy.

“Yeah.”

By the time they leave the barn they’re both quite warm and covered in straw, the moon lighting their way home.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @dkafterdark


End file.
